Pretending (Westshore Series #1)

Chapter Forty-Two: I'm Not Okay

I wake up and my head is pounding, it doesn't improve when I look at the time and remember why I am in bed at 6 pm. I feel a strong arm wrapped around me and shame floods my body. I ruined Warner's Christmas. He should be with his family and instead, he was here with me because I couldn't eat a cookie without going crazy.

I wanted to push him away like I had so many times before. The voice in my head was telling me he was sick of me, that he wanted a normal girlfriend who didn't cry over eating cake. 

I quietly lift his arm and walk into my bathroom. I was in a pair of silk pyjamas, Warner must have changed them when he put me to bed. I cringed at the thought of him seeing my bloated body.

I shut the bathroom door behind me and lock it.

My hands still have chocolate on them from my binge. The evidence is under my fingernails. I could even still taste the bile in my mouth from purging. I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth harder than necessary. I brush them a second time for good measure.

Next, I wash my hands trying to wash off the guilt and the shame each crumb left.

Disgusting Pig

I'm scrubbing so hard my skin feels like it's going to peel off. It hurts. But I welcome the pain. I want to scream.

I throw the soap across the bathroom in frustration.

A few seconds later there is a tentative knock at the door. "Jules?"

I say nothing. I can't face him. I can't let him see how disgusting and broken I was.

Broken. That's what I was.

People had real problems, and here I was crying over food. I was pathetic. People were dying of horrible diseases, and I was sitting in the bathroom crying because I had no self-control. I want to scream. I don't want to feel this way anymore

I look at my reflection in the mirror, the bloodshot eyes the hollowed cheeks. I hated her. I hated her so much. I wanted her gone. I close my eyes, so I didn't have to look at her.

That wasn't enough. I grab the candle on the shelf and throw it at the full-length mirror in front of me.

Glass splinters in front of me, and shards of glass rain down around me.

"JULIET—Juliet"

The bathroom door flies open off the hinges.

I spin around.

Warner is standing there, face flushed, chest rising and falling, staring at me like I might be a ghost. He strides across the room before I have a chance to say a word and cups my face in his hands, his eyes searching me. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," I lie my voice cracking. My face burns hot with shame, "No, I'm not fine." I can't lie to him anymore.

"What happened?" I sense Warner's eyes scanning my body, searching for where the shards of the mirror may have sliced me, but I know I was unharmed by it. The pain is elsewhere.

"I'm sorry" I chew my cheek so hard I draw blood. I hate that he has to see me like this.

"Juliet," Warner's voice is a near whisper. I refuse to look at the disgust he was sure to have on his face. Warner's hands cup my cheeks. "Look at me."

I keep my eyes shut. How could I face him? How could I after what he has seen?

"I am here. We are here together, as a team." He speaks to my lips, breathing into me. Pulling away, he rests his forehead on mine. "Open your eyes"

When I don't open them he wraps me up in his arms. He just holds me, one arm tight around my waist, the other holding the back of my head. I bury my face in his chest and the warmth of him is so familiar to me now. It comforts me and I feel my body relax already. He runs his hand up and down my back and tilts my face toward his. I finally look into his eyes, and he looks panicked and worried. His eyes are red-rimmed as if he himself had been crying.